


Hands of Red

by 222Ravens



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, a conversation, a ficlet, discussions of Tony Stark & Bucky Barnes, lightly implied steve/bucky, mild CA:CW spoilers/speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5301413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/222Ravens/pseuds/222Ravens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stark says his parents died because of your… Bucky. That he killed them.” It’s almost a question, almost an answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands of Red

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr, with minor edits making it over to AO3. (here http://dubiousculturalartifact.tumblr.com/post/134039233250/wanda-steve-says-tentative-noise-in-the)
> 
> this movie is going to destroy my emotions, I can tell already

“Wanda?“ Steve says, tentative.

 

Noise in the distance. Helicopter blades. Bucky has the head start, at least, Sam had made sure of that. But Steve? Doesn’t have a lot of time, should have run with them, this is such a risk for an uncertain ally… 

 

Her eyes fix him with that far-away, too-close stare. 

 

"Stark says his parents died because of your… Bucky. That he killed them.” It’s almost a question, almost an answer.  
  


He opens his mouth, reflex, because defending Bucky feels like necessity, feels like breathing, and _your Bucky_ echoes oddly, rightly.

 

Wanda’s gaze stops him, wordless. "I see Stark’s grief. How can I not? I have felt it, I have _lived_  it. The bomb that killed my parents was Stark’s. It was _his_.  
  
Now, Stark, he tells the world he is hero, now. All his mistakes, but he is  _sorry,_ he will make it right. Better. Perhaps. Perhaps he has done good, & that changes things. Some days I want to believe it.”

 

Her eyes flicker to her open hands, as red fire flares briefly, snuffed outjust as quick by fists. “Other days I want to kill him, still. Make him suffer.Pretend that is justice.”

Steve doesn’t let himself move, just bears witness.

 

“But it isn’t. I know what that wish cost me. Wanting revenge. Calling it justice. It cost me everything else I had left. So just that, maybe enough on its own. But there is more, yes?”

She is still looking at her hands, but they are empty, quiet. 

 

“Stark made his bombs, a free man. For his own purposes. It was not Stark’s hands that cause their death, my parents? But it  _was_  his choices.”

 

The wind on the rooftop catches at the edges of her hair, blowing it backwards, and Steve sees the helicopters in the distance.

"But him, this man you fight for, the one they call soldier, and you... _friend_?”Her lip quivers. “I know HYDRA. I know what they do to people. Just a little, maybe, compared to him, but enough.”

 

Her hands fall to her side, and that gaze is back on him, measured & measuring both. 

 

“Maybe his hands killed Stark’s parents, maybe. But  _not his choices_.”

  
  
Steve lets out the breath he has, the air filling the short gap of silence. Red fire streams, and the door to the stairwell clicks open.

 

“I will help.”


End file.
